Doors Open, Doors Shut
by Fiasco 27
Summary: A little Rizzles late night conversation.


There was no obvious reason for Jane to stay at Maura's. The killer was safely in jail, their usual post-case rehash was finished hours ago, and it was late. Still she stayed.

The conversation had gone from why he'd used a silk cord, to caring for silk clothes, to horseback riding, to childhood pets, to favorite songs. Now they were on to holidays. Maura hated Valentine's Day. "What? Why?" Jane asked. "Hearts, flowers."

"It's not your favorite either, as I recall," Maura smirked, her head tilted down.

"Yeah, not in itself, but chocolates! Ugh, is this a sugar thing?"

"Ha, not this time. It doesn't matter. Just not my kind of holiday." Maura rose from the sofa, her knee slightly bumping Jane's. Jane noticed, and she flinched at Maura's movement. It meant she was ready for Jane to leave. It was late, sure, but it didn't feel late.

On a night like this she'd talk about anything with this woman. Shoes, politics, the benefits of romaine lettuce vs. iceberg. Anything. Maura could make the least interesting things in the world seem fascinating. Jane once found herself actually saying "Oh, it's a darker green? What does that mean in terms of vitamin content?" Thinking about it later on the drive home she was so puzzled she shook her head to clear it and almost hit a curb.

But she wasn't puzzled anymore. Tonight she knew why she would listen to vegetables and gross medical details for hours. Why she'd tell stories about her childhood that she never thought she'd tell, that she never thought anyone would want to hear. She knew that her flinch at Maura's rising—at her touch—was not only because she wasn't ready to leave.

Jane sighed a little and started to stand. As much as she wanted to stay, as comfortable as she felt here, if it was time to go it was time to go. She rationalized that this was the latest they'd stayed up talking since they were briefly roommates and that they'd see each other tomorrow. Maura's voice caught her in mid-resolve, and in mid-stand: "Coffee or tea?"

Jane looked up, stunned, still bent like a crooked old man, and said "Coffee. Coffee's great."

Maura smiled. It was a smile with a depth and a calm that always put Jane at ease. She couldn't see it often enough. Unfortunately on this occasion she was not at ease enough to remember to sit back down, but Maura's smirk—this time twinkly-eyed and accompanied by the most adorable raised eyebrows—from the open kitchen accomplished that.

The coffee was good, as always, and the night went on. 2a.m...3... They laughed, they sat close, they talked about everything and nothing. Just before 4 o'clock Maura yawned and Jane felt a pang of guilt. She was being selfish. Wanting, needing to have this time, to take in just the very proximity of her dear friend had overtaken her judgment. She stood. Her legs were stiff and sore. She hadn't noticed at all.

Maura picked up the coffee cups and took them to the counter. Jane stood at the kitchen door and unlocked the deadbolt. Her hand rested on the door handle while they chuckled and chatted about yoga and what would have to be in a smoothie for Jane to drink it.

She shouldn't have said it, but Jane's sleepy brain was clumsy and desperate for just a few more seconds of tonight. "Someday I'll get you to tell me why you hate Valentine's Day."

Maura's face fell and she looked down at her folded hands. The calm was gone from her eyes and her brow furrowed. Jane would have done anything, spun the planet in reverse like Superman if she could, to unsay that, to close the door she'd kicked open. Her mouth opened to speak, to try and take away whatever painful memory she'd summoned. A panic welled up inside the normally cool, strong detective. Her hands went cold, her heart raced. She managed a useless "Maur, I..."

Maura's head lifted, her eyes fixed directly on Jane. She seemed to have found her own resolve, and, after a moment, she smiled again. "Maybe I won't have to hate it anymore."

The panic disappeared, though Jane's heart still thundered as she watched Maura walk slowly toward her, almost gliding. A thousand thoughts tried to swim through her mind, but all she could focus on was the woman in front of her, the woman who was now, suddenly and not suddenly, standing very close. Their gaze never broke, even as Maura relocked the bolt, lifted Jane's hand from the door, and slowly leaned in for their first kiss.


End file.
